


Deliberate Mistake

by BlueAlmond



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Everything Hurts, Hurts So Good, M/M, Romance, Some politics, The Author Regrets Everything, Young Albus Dumbledore, Young Gellert Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAlmond/pseuds/BlueAlmond
Summary: Late October 1903. Rumours say Gellert Grindelwald (a radical wanted for instigating mayhem in several countries around Europe) will hold a rally in London.Albus knows going would be a mistake.But he goes anyway.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Kudos: 54





	Deliberate Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something. Anything. I checked all my wips for this fandom and... then I came up with a new idea. Which I wrote in one sitting. That was fun.
> 
> If you're reading any of my multichapter stories, I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I will soon, I promise!

Albus knows that going there is a mistake. He does. But it’s too late to go back. The crowd around him is buzzing with energy and it’s overwhelming, but he knows they’re not the reason his heart is racing.

No. The reason his palms are sweating, his ears are ringing, and his knees are shaking, is standing on a stage a few feet away from him, gathering the attention of hundreds with the simple wave of a hand. His curly blond hair is now too short to tell how perfectly the locks use to encircle Albus’s fingers, but it still glows brighter than the sun.

He knows he is a fool for getting excited instead of horrified as he listens to ideas that once came out of his own mouth, back when he was a different person. He knows he should be angry. He should grow furious with each tiny detail he recognizes and concerned with every one he does not. But instead, he is fascinated. He should’ve known that getting burned once does not make you immune to fire. His skin is just as thin as it was back then, maybe thinner, and he couldn’t care less. He’s almost sure he —and everyone else around him— is under a spell, but the only magic behind it is a velvety voice and the tender full lips that enunciate every charged word that, on its own, holds the ability to instigate a rebellion.

It’s been four years since he last heard it and as soon as he does, Albus burns with the desire to rebel. His bones ache and his muscles tense and his blood boils, but he feels electrified as much as he’s paralyzed. He doesn’t know what face he’s doing, but he doesn’t care. That’s how far gone he is. It’s been four years since his face did anything without his permission in front of someone, and even longer —seven years longer— since he allowed that to happen within a crowd. And still he doesn’t care. He’s so rivetted that it takes him a second understand what the loud crash that interrupts the speech really is.

He had known Gellert was wanted for instigating chaos across Europe — mostly harmless things, but the destruction of several Muggle monuments that made the headlines of multiple Muggle newspapers led him to the top of the list of wanted criminals in the Wizarding World. Still, the view of twenty or so Aurors pointing their wands at Gellert, set on arresting him or worse, is a surreal one. Other Aurors are securing the area and forcing the departure of the crowd that had been listening; some want to resist, some even point their wands at the law enforcers, but it seems like they’ve got it covered. They’re being competent, for once. And Albus can’t stand it. He knows intervening would be a mistake…

But he does it anyway.

He perfected it only earlier that week, rendering himself invisible through a Disillusionment Charm, but he tries not to think of the irony, and Apparates next to Gellert before they get to him. Somehow they had managed to disarm him, but it’s almost too easy to recover the wand when no one can see him, and he can only imagine what kind of nonsense the papers will say as he grabs Gellert’s hand and gets him out of there.

He doesn’t know how Gellert figured out he was the one who saved him, but when they get to the small room Albus rents in Hogsmeade, clearly the only thing that intrigues him is the basket with nothing but purple balls of wool on the floor next to the desk.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Gellert says nonchalantly.

“I know,” Albus replies, taking an extra step away from him, and then another for good measure, “but it was all I could do, after I made the mistake of going.”

“So you admit it was a mistake.”

Albus swallows down the sigh that almost escapes him and sits down on his favourite chair, just to do something. “I do, yes.”

“Well. Thank you, anyway. I should go, now.”

“You should do that, yes.”

Gellert hesitates. He studies the man he loves from the corner of his eye, noticing the way his hands rest motionless on top of his lap, and he wonders. A simple clue that Albus is not relaxed —for if he were, his fingers would surely be busy with something— could mean a thousand different things. It could not be related to his presence there at all. His common sense is yelling at him to just leave, because that’s what he _has_ to do. Anything else would be a mistake.

So he goes for perhaps the biggest of them all, because if he’s going to regret anything tonight, it’s not going to be that he missed the chance to kiss Albus’s lips one more time.

Albus closes his eyes, and he cannot tell whether that’s a mistake or not because his reason just flew out the window and he’s acting on pure instinct.

They break apart for air, and whatever Gellert sees on his eyes is enough for him to press their lips together again. Albus tries, for what it’s worth, to say something. Anything.

And what comes out is: “Democracy is not a failed system!”

Gellert’s hands stop tugging at his hair and slowly make their way to Albus’s shoulders as he puts some distance between them, licking his swollen lips. Frowning slightly, he says: “What?”

“It may be flawed, but you can’t call it a failure when it is the closest we’ve gotten to justice and representativity,” Albus insists, words just pouring out of him from observations he never even noticed making as he listened to Gellert’s words earlier in London.

“Maybe, but it’s also a model crafted for the sole purpose of effectiveness in times of war. It was never meant to be equalled to peace or justice,” replies Gellert, going to sit down on the bed, just a foot away from Albus. “And wars are coming. I Saw them, Albus.”

Albus leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “And you think any other system could be implemented by force and stop that from happening?”

“It doesn’t have to be by force.”

“You’re already an outlaw, Gel. You could’ve tried a career in politics — you know you would’ve gone far. But you chose another path instead. One where you wouldn’t need to share the spotlight.”

“I would’ve shared it with you, and you know it.”

Albus smiles ruefully and shakes his head weakly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Gellert stands up abruptly. “That’s not fair!”

Albus stands up as well. “Don’t you dare complain to me about fairness!” He pokes Gellert’s chest with his finger. “You know nothing about the arbitrarily of pain. You’re just a narcissistic spoiled brat who thinks knows what’s best for the world, but your opinion is not the absolute truth, Gellert. It’s just that — an opinion.” He pushes his hair back and sighs, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I think you should go.”

“I don’t think I should,” Gellert replies, voice an octave higher, despair clearly on display on his face and trembling hands.

Albus doesn’t dare to hope that’s genuine.

“Don’t expect me to show up at your next rally. If the Aurors come, I won’t save you.”

“I didn’t need you to save me.”

Albus shrugs.

“I…” Gellert mumbles, licks his lips, and takes one step towards Albus, “I’m afraid leaving now would be a mistake. I still love you. I will always love you. I don’t want to leave.”

Albus cannot find his voice to insist. He doesn’t dare to blink, knowing that in just an instance Gellert could get too close and he would be lost to his senses again. He doesn’t have the strength to kick Gellert out, because he’s afraid of the same thing. Ending the discussion like that feels like a mistake. It feels definitive. It feels like a forced ending to something that should’ve lasted forever.

It seems like Gellert is bound to stay.

So Albus leaves.

He goes to a house he hasn’t been in four years. He avoids his brother who is doing something in the kitchen and does not hear him arrive directly in his old bedroom. It’s dusty and messy and just like he left it after an entire day of fooling around with Gellert. There are even some maps and parchments lying on the floor, with some of their plans and routes. The house feels like a museum, and Albus is certain every other room aside from Aberforth’s and the kitchen have been untouched for just as long.

He sleeps on Ariana’s bed that night.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be so different! I was actually going for a reconciliation fic and then... this happened. Oops!


End file.
